


freedom we found

by cjmasim



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Trans Blaise Zabini, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmasim/pseuds/cjmasim
Summary: "Do you feel like you're a girl, or do you not?"He hasn’t ever thought about it, but it’s easy to say no. Instinctual, even – he knows he’s not. He doesn’t know how he knows, but the very thought of not being a girl feels like something he's been missing all along, so he grabs onto the feeling and shakes his head emphatically."I'm not a girl," he whispers, trying the words out. It feels good. It feels right. He repeats it, saying it louder this time. "I'm not a girl."-Blaise's accidental magic figured out that he was trans at an early age, and magic has been a part of his transition ever since.
Relationships: Blaise Zabini & Mrs Zabini, Theodore Nott & Blaise Zabini
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	freedom we found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ilirika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilirika/gifts).



> Written as part of the Trans Wizard Tournament 2020 for ilirika, who wanted to see Blaise as trans. Back when the books first came out, we only had his name, and since it's a gender-neutral name, no one really knew what gender he was supposed to be. In fact, I learned while researching for this fic that in a few translations of HP, he'd been given a girl's name which was later changed. This makes it pretty easy to headcanon him as trans! 
> 
> Warnings for mild referenced transphobia from a stepparent and casual discussion of implied murder.
> 
> The title comes from Do What We Want To by De'Wayne, and you can find a playlist and cover art for this fic [here](https://cjmasim.tumblr.com/post/633535841043660800/lesbianlilyevans-fic-34-freedom-we-found).
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time Blaise remembers using accidental magic, he’s six years old. It’s a typical Monday afternoon; his stepfather is busy at work, so his mother plans to take him to Diagon Alley to get ice cream and browse the shops. 

Typically, Blaise is very punctual, even for a child. His mother isn't used to seeing him run late, so it's no wonder that she knocks on the door to come into his room barely 5 minutes after he was supposed to have met her at the front door.

Her jaw drops when she enters the room, and it’s only then that Blaise realizes what happened. He had been looking in the mirror at the outfit he’d been told to wear, a floral print t-shirt and lacy pink skirt so he can blend in with the crowd in case they venture into Muggle London. He’s worn this outfit before, but he remembers feeling wrong, like he’d been wearing someone else’s clothes.

The skirt is now a pair of dark green pants, and the shirt has turned black. Blaise hadn’t even been thinking about his hair, but he sees that it’s been chopped off so that it’s even shorter than chin length. He hadn’t thought about it at all; it had just happened. He tells his mother as much. 

“Why do you think your magic did that?” She asks, and she doesn’t sound angry, so Blaise tells her the truth. He doesn’t like wearing girly things, and he doesn’t like having long hair. 

“Oh, darling, that’s okay,” his mother says. Blaise isn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but he feels relieved nonetheless. He’s not as surprised as he should be when she asks the ultimate question.

"Do you feel like you're a girl, or do you not?"

He hasn’t ever thought about it, but it’s easy to say no. Instinctual, even – he knows he’s not. He doesn’t know how he knows, but the very thought of not being a girl feels like something he's been missing all along, so he grabs onto the feeling and shakes his head emphatically.

"I'm not a girl," he whispers, trying the words out. It feels good. It feels right. He repeats it, saying it louder this time. "I'm not a girl."

His mother nods, smiling to reassure him. “That’s okay, you don’t have to be a girl. Do you feel like you’re a boy, or something else?”

Blaise hadn’t even considered what else to call himself. He knows his newly transfigured clothing and hair look like what boys his age wear, and he feels comfortable looking at his reflection in the mirror, so maybe that means he’s a boy. He’s never heard of being anything other than a boy or girl. 

"If you aren't sure, you don't need to answer that now," his mother says. "Your name is gender-neutral anyway, so you probably don't have to change it – unless you want to, of course, and if you do, that's okay. There are other steps you can take, but for now, why don't we just go get ice cream?"

Blaise grins and nods. “Okay!” 

-

Blaise has a lovely afternoon with his mother, and it's exhilarating to go out in public dressed in clothes that aren't girly. The ice cream shop owner, Mr. Fortescue, even calls him "sir," and it feels so natural that it takes him a moment to even realize that this is the first time he's ever been called that.

He doesn't go to sleep as quickly as usual that night, still too excited from all the day's events. His parents must think he's asleep, though, and Blaise's excitement fades as he hears their conversation escalate. They're yelling at each other, and once he hears his name, he gets up to lean against the door and eavesdrop.

"You're turning your daughter into even more of a freak than your kind already is!" His stepfather yells. It's the first time Blaise has heard him speak today; he'd been uncharacteristically quiet at dinner.

“Over some clothes? Really, Edward?” His mother sounds angry, and Blaise knows she doesn’t anger easily. "Honestly, Blaise is a _child_. I found myself attracted to you because you're such a successful businessman, and I admired the work ethic I thought you had, but if you have nothing better to do than to worry about what _my_ child is wearing, then clearly I was mistaken."

Edward is silent, and Blaise imagines that his face is turning red like it sometimes does when he reads the newspaper. He’s always found that hilarious, and Edward has never been happy when he starts to laugh at him, but his words tonight are the first time he’s made Blaise feel unwelcome. He doesn’t like that feeling. 

“You know that’s not what this is,” he says after a beat of silence, barely loud enough for Blaise to hear anymore. 

"It's exactly what I think it is," his mother replies. "You're a bigot just like the rest of _your_ kind."

Blaise doesn't hear anything else until a few minutes later, when a single pair of footsteps stomps toward his parents' bedroom and the door slams. He gets back into bed and hopes that he doesn’t have to talk to Edward ever again.

-

He wakes to find his mother in his room. She’s dressed in one of her finest black mourning robes, and as the memories of the previous night return to him, he wonders whether his wish had come true.

“Blaise, dear, I’m sorry,” she says. “It seems that your stepfather had a heart attack in his sleep – a nasty Muggle condition, that one.”

"Oh," Blaise says. The timing is incredibly convenient. He's not sure how he's supposed to feel, but his world doesn't come crashing down, and he's positive that it won’t. 

“His funeral will be in two days. But don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll be getting most of his money, so we’ll be able to get through this. Half of it goes straight to your trust fund, of course.”

"Okay," Blaise says, smiling up at her. Edward hadn't been in their lives for long, and he'd liked the previous stepfather better, anyway. He doesn't remember his real father, nor does he know much about him. Perhaps now is a good time to ask, though. If she's already in her mourning robes, he reasons, asking about his father couldn't possibly make his mother any more upset. "Mum, was Father much like Edward?"

His mother smiles down at him, reaching out to stroke his hair. “No, your father was much different than Edward. He was a wizard, of course, and he was fluent in Amharic and Italian as well as English. He was a brilliant man, Blaise.”

Blaise is relieved that his father sounds like a good man, but his mother’s answer still doesn’t tell him very much. “What happened to him?” It’s a blunt question, but he thinks nothing of it; this is his chance to learn more.

She shakes her head. “He found himself caught up with the wrong sort. You remember what I told you about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” Blaise nods. He doesn’t know much about him, just that he was obsessive and dangerous and that he’d been defeated by a baby the same age as Blaise. “Some of your father’s associates followed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and they tried to recruit your father. He was brilliant and a highly skilled dueler; his skills would have greatly helped their cause, you see. They wanted his help in spreading the cause to Italy, too, since he'd grown up there. But your father refused, and he died for it.”

Blaise nods as solemnly as a six-year-old can, falsely believing that Voldemort was so powerful that just saying no to him could make someone die on the spot. While not entirely wrong, it would be a few years before he realizes that his father was deliberately killed. 

“He couldn’t have just stayed away from them?”

“No,” his mother replies, shaking her head. “But it’s okay. He’d be proud of us.”

“I’m glad he wasn’t like Edward,” Blaise says. “He was mean last night. I heard him.”

His mother sighs, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, Blaise. He was a Muggle, as you know, so he couldn't do magic like you and I can."

“Is that why he was mad? Is it magic for me to maybe be a boy?”

She laughs softly. "You're so full of questions today. But yes, Muggles tend to be more closed-minded. That means that they don't always like to accept people who fall outside of the norm – like people who don't claim the gender they were given at birth, or people who want to kiss those of the same gender, or people who are from different cultural backgrounds. This is why they usually can't know about magic, too."

“Why?”

"Oh, if only we knew," she says, shaking her head. "Maybe it's because their world is so empty compared to ours. They won't believe anything if they can't see it in front of them. It's good to be cautious of Muggles, you know – not only because you're a wizard. They can be more dangerous than we magical folk tend to give them credit for."

Blaise is quiet, taking in the information. He’s never learned much about Muggles before, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like them very much.

"Certainly not all of them are bad," she continues. "In fact, your thinking you might be a boy isn't just a wizard thing; Muggles can feel that way, too. Of course, I didn't know Edward was one of the bad ones. I wouldn't have ever brought him into your life if I'd known."

It’s comforting, and Blaise gets the distinct impression that his mother isn’t going to bring any more Muggles into his life ever again. 

-

A few weeks later, Blaise decides that he is a boy, after all. 

“In that case, I couldn’t be more proud to have you as a son,” his mother says, pulling him in for a hug. She asks what she can do to make him more comfortable, and by the end of the night, they have plans to shop for new clothing and room decorations, a proper haircut appointment, and a session with a photographer so that they can replace all the old photos he doesn’t like. 

His mother asks if he wants to change his name, too, but Blaise decides that he doesn't have any reason. He's always liked his name, and she tells him that it can be used for anyone of any gender.

"Now, come on, Blaise, my son, let's get you to bed," she says as the night draws to an end. Blaise thinks that she's already called him her son more times today than she ever called him her daughter in the past six years, but her easy acceptance makes him feel warm inside. He goes to sleep with the feeling that everything is exactly as it should be.

-

Two more stepfathers come and go before Blaise learns the truth. He's ten years old now, almost old enough to attend Hogwarts, and his latest stepfather, Norman, has just been found at the bottom of the swimming pool. It's been just over two years since the last stepfather died of misuse of magic, and he's starting to get a little suspicious. Is there some sort of curse on his mother, or has she taken matters into her own hands?

He doesn't say anything until the house is empty, the body and the Auror long gone. 

“Mother,” he begins, carefully considering how to word his question. “Did Norman really drown by accident?”

“What do you mean?” She asks, avoiding the question.

"Well, I don't know, it just seems… excessive, shall we say, that so many of your husbands have died. We're already up to five." He doesn't mean to come across as rude, really, but his mother doesn't seem offended, so he reasons that it's okay.

She sighs. “You’re right,” she admits. “It is suspicious. Do you swear that you won’t tell anyone?”

“Of course not,” Blaise says without hesitation.

“The truth is that I’ve killed them,” she says. “Norman, Rodney, Edward, and Warren, that is. I had nothing to do with your father’s death.”

Blaise nods, taking the information in. It doesn’t come as a surprise, of course, but it’s strange to have his suspicion confirmed. He’d thought that murder was wrong, but he loves his mother more than anyone else in the world. Surely, she would never do anything wrong – but she had, hadn’t she?

“Isn’t that bad?” He asks, even as he thinks that maybe she isn’t the one who should answer that question.

“That’s anyone’s judgment,” she replies. “For what it’s worth, none of them were good men. You already know about Edward, but the others weren’t much different. Liars, cheaters, violent gits – Rodney even admitted that he was a Death Eater back when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was still around. As if I could live with someone who…” She trails off, but Blaise gets what she means. 

He'd never been particularly attached to any of these men; he'd even been relieved at Edward's death. His mother has never been one to give more details than necessary when telling a story, but he gets the distinct impression that these men had done a lot worse than he'd ever imagined.

“You did it because it was necessary?” He asks. 

She nods. “I didn’t marry them with the intention of killing them,” she says. “I would never do that. I will admit that I only go for wealthy men – keeping our vault filled helps me to keep the time to stay home and raise you, and it’s always good to have money on hand – but I always see something in them.”

“Maybe wealthy men are just bad,” Blaise suggests. 

She cracks a smile. “That can’t be,” she says. “Not when I have you.”

He laughs despite himself, and it’s all he needs to decide that this doesn’t change anything about how he feels about his mother. She’s always been there for him, and even if she marries again, he doesn’t think any future husband will mean as much to her as he knows he does. 

-

In mid-July, he gets his Hogwarts letter. Of course, it's no surprise, but the thought of going to such a large school with so many people his age is as exciting as it is terrifying. He hasn't met very many kids his age, and it'll be strange to be so far from his mother.

She tells him that same night that she intends to marry the man she's been casually dating for a few months now. His name is Jesper, pronounced like _Yesper_ , and he's a Swede who had been on holiday in London. He's the editor of the most popular Swedish wizarding newspaper, and his mother is planning to move to his home in Sweden.

“I’ll still keep our home, of course,” she assures him. “It’ll be quite nice to go somewhere new, though, and such a relief not to have an empty home.”

“Will I have to go to Durmstrang?” Blaise asks. He’s not sure where Durmstrang is – allegedly, no one outside of the school knows – but he’s heard that most eastern and northern Europeans go there. 

His mother winces. “Oh, dear, absolutely not. Durmstrang has some advantages over Hogwarts, without a doubt; they do teach proper dark magic there, after all, and their history professor is not a useless ghost. They’re so _barbaric_ , though. You would be miserable there. And that headmaster – I shudder to think of all the atrocities he’s gotten away with.”

It’s a little rich, coming from her, but then again, Blaise supposes he doesn’t have any idea what Durmstrang’s headmaster may have done. Maybe there are crimes worse than murder, or perhaps he murdered innocent people. 

“You’ll come to Sweden with us for the winter holidays, of course,” she adds. 

He’s never been to Sweden, so he finds himself looking forward to that, if nothing else. 

“What about the summer holidays?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she says. “It depends on… well, the status of our marriage, shall we say. I hope that you can come to Sweden again, or perhaps split the time between there and here, but if not, then we’ll go on a lovely holiday.”

Blaise smiles. “I’d love that.”

He’ll be at Hogwarts by the time they have their wedding ceremony, but he’s already been to so many of those that he finds that he really doesn’t mind.

-

The next day, his mother brings up the topic of his gender. It’s not something that they’ve spoken much about since he declared himself a boy; there hasn’t been any reason to. 

“I’m not sure how the Hogwarts magic works, but just to make sure there aren’t any issues, I’m going to write to Dumbledore to make sure you’re put in the boys’ dorm,” she says. “And as you’re getting older, it won’t be long before you start developing so that you’re no longer entirely a child. Now, since you were thought to be a girl physically, there are some measures we can take to make sure that this process goes as you’d like it to go.”

It’s a lot more than Blaise has considered at this point. He’d just imagined going to Hogwarts, being sorted, and learning all about magic. Everything else has always seemed secondary, and he admittedly hasn’t thought too extensively about what he’ll look like as an adult.

“What kind of measures?” He asks. 

"It can get fairly complicated, but there are a few different types of magic that can be used for physical transition in the name of gender affirmation. That is to say, making one's body match societal expectations of the gender that they are in their mind. I can take you to a Healer specializing in this if you feel that you'd like to have anything done. They can give you hormonal potion treatments to aid in your development."

"Okay," Blaise agrees. "I think I'd like that." He's still unsure what the process actually looks like, but he thinks that meeting with a Healer will help him gain more clarity.

As it turns out, the Healer is a kind young woman who does a great job explaining the process. Once the agreement is finalized, she can give him an estrogen-blocking spell right away to ensure that he doesn’t begin to exhibit traditionally feminine characteristics, and from there, he’ll just need to take supplemental testosterone potions twice a week. There’s a mix of spellwork and potions that can help him grow the appropriate appendage, should he desire that later on, but that procedure is only available to wizards who are of age. 

His mother agrees to get him started right away, and the Healer administers the estrogen-blocking spell shortly afterward. Blaise doesn’t feel any different, but she performs a diagnostic spell and assures him that it worked. He leaves with a small supply of potions and an order to start receiving them in the mail on a regular basis. It’s quite simple, really, and when he takes the first potion that night, Blaise finds that it actually tastes quite a bit better than most potions he’s had. It doesn’t taste _good_ , exactly, and he suspects that no potions do, but it’s neutral and inoffensive. Perhaps, he thinks, it even tastes a bit like bread. 

He hadn't given physical transitioning much thought before, but he's sure that it's the right thing to do. He hasn't thought of himself as a girl in years, and he knows that he never will. When he starts at Hogwarts, the students will only know him as a boy, won't even get the chance to judge him for having once been called a girl, and the thought of it excites him.

-

His mother and Jesper bring him to the train platform to see him off to Hogwarts. Blaise still doesn't feel like he knows Jesper, having only met him a handful of times prior, but it's nice enough for him to show up, and he appreciates that the man gives him and his mother some privacy as they say goodbye.

"I'm sure you'll end up in Slytherin," she tells him. "Just as I was. You never hesitate to go after what you want. I'll be proud of you regardless, of course. If you do end up in Slytherin, though, be cautious. Their symbol isn't a snake for no reason. Stay on good terms with the others, but don't get too close to anyone unless they prove trustworthy. Too many Slytherins turn out to be Death Eaters – even worse than the Muggles they so despise. Don't be a follower, but don't try to lead those who don't deserve it, either. And remember to write."

"I will," Blaise promises.

-

He spends the train ride across the country with a few other first-year boys who introduce themselves as Ernie Macmillan, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas. Blaise vaguely recognizes Ernie from some of the pureblood society events his mother took him to as a child, but they’d never actually spoken. Seamus and Dean are friendly enough, but they’re more comfortable with Muggles than Blaise would like. He doesn't see himself remaining friends with any of these boys once they reach the castle, but he sees no reason to make them his enemies either.

When the conversation lingers too long on how Professor McGonagall broke the news about magic to Dean’s mother and stepfather, Blaise finds himself trying to predict which house they’ll all end up in instead of paying attention. Dean and Seamus are both quite talkative and eager; he thinks they’ll end up in the same house, regardless of which one it is. They could be Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors, and he gets the impression that they’re already forming a strong friendship. Ernie is quieter, more calculating, though he has no qualms about inserting himself into a conversation. Blaise isn’t sure how he feels about academics, but he could see him as a Ravenclaw or perhaps a Hufflepuff. He does offer to buy sweets from the trolley for everyone in their compartment, after all, and Blaise isn't sure anyone outside of Hufflepuff would do such a thing.

His predictions are mostly correct, anyway. He reasons that he did pretty well, considering that he'd only just met the others.

When the Sorting Hat is placed on his head, he knows that the entire student body is watching. During the ceremony, he'd noticed some of them tuning out or whispering to their friends, especially the older students who'd already seen several such ceremonies in the past. He's the last to be sorted, though, so once his fate is determined, it will be time for the feast to begin.

 _No pressure,_ the Sorting Hat says to him. He doesn’t think that’s entirely true, but the pressure doesn’t bother him. Blaise already has a good idea of which house he belongs in, and it won’t take long for the hat to agree. _Slytherin, hm? Yes, yes, I can see that you strive for greatness, and you’d do well there. I see an eagerness to learn, too, as well as a potential for fierce loyalty… ah, but only to those who you deem worthy. Yes, indeed, it’ll have to be-_

"SLYTHERIN!" Blaise takes the Sorting Hat off his head and places it back on the stool as the Slytherin table cheers. Some of the students from other houses are clapping lightly as well, presumably glad that the ceremony is over so they can continue to catch up with their friends.

He makes his way to the Slytherin table with a smile on his face. Many great wizards have come from Slytherin, but as his mother warned him, so have many terrible ones.

Dumbledore says a few words, and it isn’t long before the food appears in front of them and they’re free to talk. Blaise has already met most of the Slytherin first years at various pureblood society events, but like Ernie, he’s never truly gotten to know them. His mother had never liked those events much, anyway, and they’d only gone to the most important ones. 

“I just can’t believe it,” Draco Malfoy says to their group, loud enough that Blaise is sure anyone nearby can hear him. “Someone so powerful, so important, and he chooses to insult _me_ , Draco Malfoy?”

Blaise doesn’t deign him with a response, leaving that to the ones sitting closest to Malfoy. He turns instead to the pale boy sitting across from him. 

“Theodore Nott, right?”

The boy nods and sticks out a hand. “I’m not sure I’ve met you, Blaise Zabini.”

Blaise takes his hand and gives it a firm shake. “Pleasure.”

"Now, why did I think you were a girl when I first heard your name?" It's the blonde girl to his left who speaks, and Blaise recognizes her as Daphne Greengrass. He vaguely remembers being introduced to her at a party one time, likely because their parents had believed them both to be girls of the same age. They hadn’t spoken since they were about five years old. “Maybe I once met a Beauxbatons girl with your name. I don’t think we’ve met; are you a pureblood?”

“I am,” Blaise says, thankful that she doesn’t remember him. He doubts any pureblood or wizard-raised half-blood would take issue with his gender transition, but it’s much more relaxing to live in a setting in which no one has the slightest clue that he hasn’t always been known as a boy. “I haven’t been to many events, though. I believe I’ve seen you, but we haven’t formally met. It’s a pleasure.” He sticks out a hand, and she, too, takes it. 

“It’s nice to meet someone who seems down-to-earth,” Theodore remarks. “Malfoy is a fine bloke, but he can be rather dramatic.”

Daphne laughs. “Oh, Theodore, you don’t know the half of it.” The girl to her left laughs as well, and Blaise doesn’t think he recognizes her. Her skin is as dark as his, somewhat of a rarity in pureblood society, and he thinks he’d have remembered if they’d met before.

“I’m Tracey Davis,” she says. “I’m getting the impression that I might be the only half-blood here, but it’s lovely to meet you all.” 

Theodore laughs. “Ah, yes, if you’re a half-blood, you’d better stick with us. Malfoy won’t take too kindly to that.”

Blaise spares a glance in Malfoy’s direction, but he’s still going on about Potter and doesn’t seem to have noticed. Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle pay them no mind, either, somehow too engrossed in Malfoy's ranting. The girl sitting across from Daphne is turned toward Malfoy, but turns back in Blaise's direction as if noticing him looking. 

“Good luck sharing a room with him,” she says, speaking directly to Blaise and Theodore. “I’m Millicent Bulstrode.”

They maintain casual conversation for the rest of the night, talking about their backgrounds and the classes they're most excited to take. They're bound to have all of their classes together and share a living space for the foreseeable future, so Blaise is glad that they all seem to get along. He intends to get along with everyone in Slytherin, of course, but he hopes to avoid as many of Malfoy’s rants as possible. From the sound of it, he’s not the only one. 

-

Indeed, by the end of their first year, Blaise has become close enough to Theodore, Daphne, Millicent, and Tracey to call them friends. He spends most of his free time either alone or with the group, and they even make plans to meet up over the summer. He’s quite friendly with Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, and Parkinson as well, and certainly has no qualms about working on assignments with them, but he already doubts he’ll ever talk to any of them once they graduate from Hogwarts unless their careers force them to interact. 

When Dumbledore takes the House Cup away from them at the last second, Malfoy isn’t the only one who spends the whole meal ranting, but their shared anger is almost comforting. He’s made it through a full year of Hogwarts, and Blaise is pleased to say that he feels that he belongs there.

-

It’s not until their second year that anyone finds out the truth about Blaise's gender. He'd stayed up late working on a particularly troublesome Transfiguration essay, and when he gets back to his dormitory, Theodore is the only one awake.

"What is that?" He asks as Blaise downs his testosterone potion. He hasn't hidden the fact that he takes it, but no one has asked up until now.

He doesn't have a lie in mind, and besides, Blaise thinks he can trust Theodore. "It's a testosterone potion. For gender transitioning."

“Oh,” Theodore says. He comes closer until he’s standing right by Blaise’s bed, speaking more quietly so that the others won’t hear him. “Are you a boy, still, or…?”

"Yes, I am," Blaise confirms. "I was thought to be a girl when I was born. I've been taking this potion for over a year now."

Theodore nods. “Huh, okay. I didn’t know that was something that could be done. I mean – not taking a potion, just… changing that.”

“It’s called being transgender; it’s been a fairly easy process for magical folk for centuries,” Blaise says, remembering what he’s read in the family library and what the Healer had told him at his first transition appointment. “There’s a hormone-blocking spell and a hormone-enhancing potion – the spell for the physical characteristics you don’t want, and the potion for the ones you do. It’s fairly simple, really.”

Theodore nods slowly, taking the information in. “Is that it, then?” He asks. “A boy – or, well, someone who’s thought to be a boy – can just use a spell and take some potions, and then, well, be a girl?”

“Sort of,” Blaise shrugs. “It’s more that the person in your example would have been a girl all along, just that they might not know it yet. They might look like what we think of as a boy, but gender is really all in the mind.”

“Huh,” Theodore says. “It’s all in the mind, but there are still just the two default genders?”

"Oh, no, not necessarily," Blaise says. He's starting to feel a little bit like a professor, but he supposes that it's a good sign if Theodore is genuinely curious. At least he hasn't asked anything personal, though they aren't the type of friends who usually do. "There are those who are neither a boy nor a girl. Some even fluctuate between both and neither. I haven't actually met anyone like this, though."

Come to think of it, Blaise has yet to meet anyone else who he knows to be trans, but he supposes that it isn't the sort of thing one can assume about strangers.

“That’s amazing, actually,” Theodore says. “I’ll stop interrogating you, though.”

“No worries,” Blaise shrugs. 

“Thank you,” Theodore adds, bidding him goodnight as he heads back to his own bed.

-

It shouldn’t be a surprise, then, when Theodore asks to speak to him in private a few months later and confesses that he can’t stop thinking about Blaise’s words on gender. 

“Specifically,” he says, “I remember what you said about how gender goes further than just boy and girl, male and female. I know that isn’t you, but I was wondering if you know – how does one _know_?”

“Know if they’re not strictly a boy or a girl?” Blaise asks, and Theodore nods. “Well, I suppose you’d just have to think long and hard about what you find comfortable and what you don’t.”

Theodore has a lot of questions, and since curfew hasn’t even passed yet, he doesn’t hesitate to ask them all. Blaise does his best to answer them, though he’s no expert, and it’s actually quite nice to get the feeling that he’s helping someone. Perhaps it’s a very Hufflepuff way to feel, but he likes it.

"You can take all the time in the world to think about it," Blaise says. "For now, though, are you still most comfortable with being called a boy and using 'he' pronouns, or would you rather not?"

“Oh, wow, I didn’t even think about pronouns,” Theodore laughs. “Er, yeah, I don't know; I think I'll just stick with what I've been using for now. But you've been so helpful."

"It's my pleasure," Blaise says, and he finds that he actually means it.

-

Toward the end of Blaise's second year, Jesper meets his end in an alleged broom accident. He's not sure what the man did wrong, but it's a relief to not have to split another summer holiday between his childhood home and Sweden.

-

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all find out the purpose of Blaise’s potions by the end of their third year. Blaise doesn’t mind telling them; after Theodore asked, he resigned himself to the inevitability that the rest of the boys who slept in the same room as him would surely find out eventually. None of them ask him any questions – and admittedly, Blaise isn’t entirely sure Crabbe and Goyle actually understand what the potion is for – but they don’t give him any trouble for it. 

He chooses to tell Daphne, Millicent, and Tracey himself, not because he feels that he needs to, but because it seems odd for half the Slytherins in their year to know if his three of his four actual friends don’t. Predictably, they’re all just as supportive as Theodore. 

“Do you reckon Parkinson knows?” Blaise asks shortly after telling them. He doesn’t particularly care if she does, but he isn’t close enough to her to go out of his way to tell her, and it’d be odd if she were the only Slytherin in their year not to know.

“Maybe Draco told her,” Daphne suggests. “I wouldn’t worry too much. I doubt she’ll care one way or another.”

Blaise accepts this easily enough, and it’s a relief to think that he won’t have to come out again for quite a while.

The focus of their conversation shifts quickly to the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, the last of the year, and Blaise takes the opportunity to bask in the normalcy of it all. He’s not sure what the future holds, but between the students being petrified by a basilisk the previous year and a supposed Death Eater escaping from Azkaban over the summer, he has a feeling things are going to get interesting, for better or for worse. 

In the meantime, he has his friends, his mother, and plenty of schoolwork to do, and that is enough.


End file.
